by Jones, Heath
“I do, and it is a simple question,” he replies. Amazingly, there is no hint of mockery in his voice. “Which war would you end?”
“This war! The one you started, the one you continue to wage across nation after nation, killing and destroying everything in your path.”
“And what of the other wars?” he replies calmly.
“What other wars?” I demand hotly.
The emperor sighs, shakes his head. What is he playing at?
“When King Rian ruled Lusena,” Tigranik says at last, “I rose to the rank of General and became the leader of his armies. All the old king ever wanted was peace, and his army was trained merely to keep Lusena safe. Safe from criminals, bandits, or anyone who might try to encroach on our territory. Sadly, his policy of defence was always destined to fail. Not everyone in this world wants peace, no matter how loudly they scream and cry for it. Rather, they would have power.”
“Sounds like you,” I say, challenging him.
He watches me for a moment but doesn’t rise to the bait. “Lusena was always at the mercy of her neighbours. Border incursions were common. Raiders from Durdan, Rillayd, Lagon, and Naren nibbled away at us. Our remote villages burned, the villagers taken for slaves. Any resources we lay claim to were overrun. And all Rian allowed our armies to do was chase the invaders back across the borders. In time, he built fortresses and outposts to try and halt the invaders, but still they came. They knew they could attack us with impunity. We would never retaliate, never take the battle into their lands. The king was satisfied so long as Malikaran, his royal city, was safe, and the invaders were turned back.
“But I knew this would not last,” Tigranik continues. “The invasions grew bolder each year, their incursions encroaching further into Lusena. I knew the attacks wouldn’t stop, that eventually they would come for Malikaran.”
“That’s when you murdered the king,” I say contemptuously. “I’ve heard that part of the story.”
Tigranik raises his eyebrows, but that is the only response he makes to my interruption. “I looked farther afield,” he says, continuing to give me his own version of history, “and what do you think I saw? More wars. Sevran was at war with Durdan, Naren was at war with Tarmaik, and countless other battles were brewing. I knew that peace could only truly come if all the nations were united under a single ruler who genuinely wanted peace.”
“And you’re that ruler?” I ask mockingly. “But you’re lying. Naren and Tarmaik haven’t been at war for over fifty years.” This, at least, I’m sure of.
“True,” Tigranik concedes, “but for the ten years prior to that? Those two nations have been at war on and off for over 300 years. The last fifty has seen an uneasy peace between them. Seven years ago, when an earthquake levelled the cities and towns of Naren, Tarmaik was poised to break that fragile peace. Their armies were gathered on the border, ready to invade, when I put a stop to it. I offered to help rebuild Naren, and they accepted my aid.”
“Your aid?” I say with contempt. “You conquered Naren by stealth. You can try to cloak your actions with benevolence, but you still invaded them.”
“Perhaps,” he replies, with a shrug of his shoulder, “but it was a bloodless invasion. If I had done nothing, Tarmaik would certainly have invaded. There would have been countless more bodies piled atop the mountain of victims of the earthquake. I prevented that and helped raise Naren from the rubble it had become.”
“But…” I say, floundering for words, “but you never left. You still rule over them.”
“And why not? I have rebuilt Naren. Tarmaik is fearful to invade them while ever my Peace Bringers are there, and Naren is growing prosperous once more.”
I stare at him, dumbfounded. He truly believes what he is saying. Yet he is ignoring the thousands of deaths that are attributable to his hand. Naren is no longer free, they are slaves to this man and his ruthless armies. Naren is…
I have been through Naren.
And there is a cornel of truth to what he is saying. I remember the town of Seam. The people were welcoming, they didn’t appear to resent the presence of Peace Bringers in their town, and Seam was prosperous. But… but…
“But Naren isn’t free!” I object.
Tigranik sighs. “What does that mean?”
“What?” I say, confused.
“What does it mean to be free?” Tigranik asks.
“It means, it means,” I stutter, stumbling over my words, “it means being free to choose your own destiny, your own rulers.”
Tigranik raises his eyebrows. “Are they not free to choose their own destiny? And as for their rulers… was Naren better off before I gave them the protection that has ensured their peace and stability?”
Would they have been better off? I don’t know. I shake my head to clear my thoughts and my doubts. His words are his most dangerous weapons. “If they truly had the choice, they would throw off your cloak of dominion. You may believe your lies, but I don’t.” I try to sound firm, resolute, but the voice of doubt still speaks loudly in my head.
“Then look closer,” Tigranik says. “You have spent time in my royal city. What do you make of the people of Malikaran?”
“They fear you!” I shout immediately.
“Is it wrong for a people to fear their emperor?” he counters. “Perhaps it is,” he adds reflectively. “But you know it is not only fear they feel. You have lived in the city’s streets. I am not a tyrant, but their rightful ruler. I provide them with peace and the opportunity to grow prosperous.”
Reluctantly, I admit again that there is truth in his words. I have seen that fear is not the only emotion the people of Malikaran feel for their emperor. They revere him, too. When the trumpets had sounded the attempted assassination, the shock and despair that rippled through the city as people realised someone had attempted to kill their emperor, was genuine.
But I have also seen the fear! I have felt the hidden, watching eyes, and been betrayed by them. Oh Rose, what did they do to you to break you so quickly? Malikaranis are fearful, distrustful of outsiders. They fear the emperor, they fear the Peace Bringers, they fear approaching the walls of the royal district, and they fear his prisons.
And yet…
Is it really fear of their emperor that they feel, or is it fear for their emperor?
Someone has tried to kill our beloved emperor.
Beloved. That was the word they used. What is there in this man that makes him loved by his people? And is their fear really for Tigranik’s safety? Or do they fear losing the peace and stability he has brought them?
My thoughts are interrupted as Tigranik’s eyes flicker to the side in a motion so quick I almost miss it. What’s he looking for? The look on his face makes me think… ah, of course.
“Looking for your guards?” I ask, smirking. “There’s nobody - ” The blood drains from my face as an uncomfortable truth suddenly dawns on me. “Where are your guards?” I ask warily. I curse myself for not realising earlier that we have been alone in this garden the whole time. Surely Tigranik isn’t foolish enough to leave himself completely unprotected for so long.
“They’re here, watching,” Tigranik replies. “But they have their orders.”
“What orders?” I ask, glancing around, a ball of fear growing steadily stronger in my stomach.
“If someone is able to evade detection and reach me here, in my private garden in the middle of my palace, they have earned the right to be heard.” He smiles then makes a barely perceptible hand gesture that only my heightened senses would pick up, before the garden around me erupts with the sudden appearance of Peace Bringers, materialising out of nowhere.
“They were here all along, weren’t they?” I ask, my confidence evaporating. The wily emperor must have concealed entrances – and exits – to his garden.
“They’ve been watching, yes. Did you expect otherwise?”
Now what? I still have my knife in my hand, but I’m surrounded. But then, I always have been, haven’t
I?
“I’m not alone,” I say, trying to buy time. Time for what though, I don’t know.
“Yes, you are,” the emperor replies, a tinge of sadness in his voice. Another small motion of his hand, and I turn at the sound of footsteps behind me. Three Peace Bringers enter the clearing, one of them carrying a large, cloaked bundle. He places it down gently on the grass, then backs away.
My heart sinks as I approach the bundle. I don’t want to know what it is, but I fear I already do.
I’m not alone.
Yes, you are.
My hand shakes as I reach out to pull aside the edge of the cloak. “No!” I scream. My heart rips and tears fill my eyes at the sight of Aveline’s lifeless face.
“I’m sorry, Sara,” Tigranik whispers.
I look up at him, tears flooding my cheeks. Rage wells up inside me. I want to lash out at Tigranik. But his face, and his voice… he is sorry. He… he meant what he said.
“Why is she dead and I’m not?” I yell, the question aimed at myself, not Tigranik.
“You both came here to kill me,” he replies, “so fairly, you should both be dead. But to answer your question – you were good enough to reach me here, in my garden. She was not.”
That can’t be all. There must be some other reason, something to pierce through my grief and shed some light into the darkness. I need something, desperately, anything.
But there is nothing. I’m alive, and Aveline, like everyone else, is dead. I am completely numb, a hollow, emotionless husk. Looking at the emperor, I’m shocked to see genuine pity on his face. I’ve come here to kill this man, we all did. But… can I? I grip my knife tighter. Yes, I can at least still do that.
“This doesn’t have to end the way you imagine,” he says.
“Yes, it does,” I reply grimly, and stride towards him. I lunge forward and strike at his belly with my blade. He steps back and attempts to deflect my knife, but I anticipate his movement and quickly withdraw my arm while dancing in closer, then slash across his slide as I flow behind him.
A cry of pained anguish escapes his lips. I smile as blood oozes out from above his hip. He lashes out viciously, his knives cutting and slashing, and now I’m backing away, barely keeping his blades from my flesh.
Before I can stop his advance and take back the initiative, he stops. I breathe deeply, waiting for his next attack, but none comes.
“I need someone like you,” Tigranik says. “There is an unfortunate rarity of people who are willing to speak and act on their convictions, on what they believe to be right. Someone who is prepared to tell me that I am wrong – and keep me safe at the same time – I would value as a precious treasure.”
“I’d have thought you’d kill anyone who disagrees with you,” I say.
He raises his eyebrows and looks as though I have insulted him. “I offered Storm the same choice,” he says, ignoring my barb. “I asked her to take command of my personal security, and to have the freedom to speak her mind on any subject, no matter how disagreeable I may find it. Unfortunately, she chose her own path.”
She chose her own path. More truthfully, she nearly died fighting her way out of the Palace before Karam rescued her. But again, his revelation shocks me. Tigranik asked Storm to serve him? Why didn’t she tell me any of this? Why didn’t she prepare me?
Then, as I look up into the emperor’s face, a more depressing question asserts itself. What is the truth? Is it what I’ve always believed, that this man is a vile warmonger intent on conquering the nations for his own glory, and deserving of death? Or am I only seeing the shadow of the truth? There is always more than you will ever know, lurking below the surface. Is that what the emperor’s cryptic words meant? He is certainly… not what I expected. And something happened to Storm to make her spare the emperor’s life. As Tigranik said, she must have seen things, things that caused her to re-evaluate… what? What did she re-evaluate? The answer, I realise, is obvious, yet strikes me with the suddenness of a concealed blade - everything she believed to be true.
It’s all too much. I thought Storm was more than my teacher – I thought she was my friend. Yet I’m painfully aware of how little I really knew her. The shock of revelation, of my own uncertainties, the pain of seeing Aveline’s lifeless body and the blood slowly seeping from own, leave me dazed and weak.
Another faint hand gesture from Tigranik and two more Peace Bringers emerge from another concealed entrance. “Theolin!” I gasp, as she is dragged between the two Peace Bringers. I’d just assumed she was dead, like Aveline.
“Kill him Fairgrey,” Theolin snarls, writhing between her two captors. “Finish what we came here for.”
Kill him. That is why I came here. I turn back to the emperor who stands motionless, watching me.
“End this,” Theolin screams. “If you’re too scared to do it for yourself, then remember our families, our friends. They’re all dead! Do it for them.”
Amazingly, the Peace Bringers are merely restraining Theolin while still allowing her to speak. A prisoner isn’t allowed the freedom to say what Theolin just has, but Tigranik has allowed it. This must be another of his rules for his special garden, that anyone, even a captive prisoner, may speak freely.
But her words pierce me like an arrow. Of course I remember my family, my friends. How can I forget? Aveline’s body is lying on the grass in front of me. Her face still looks beautiful even in death. And Jarryd… Jarryd…
Can I allow my grief, my bitterness, to guide my actions? Jarryd didn’t. He chose to rise above those feelings, not hold onto them or allow them to destroy him. If I give into them and kill the emperor, what will that mean for me? I may change the course of the world, but how will I be changed?
“I didn’t give you my knife for nothing, Fairgrey!” Theolin spits.
Theolin’s right. I can’t save those already dead, but there are countless others who are still alive, yet will perish in this war. I can save them.
And then what?
If I kill Tigranik, will someone else merely take his place to continue the war? Will the boundless slaughter continue? Or… is there another possibility. If Tigranik wins, and all the nations are united in peace under his rule, will there truly be an end to the senseless deaths? Could the emperor… could he be right?
Is this what you saw Storm? Is this why you refused to kill Tigranik? Yet, if you thought he was worthy to live, why did you find him unworthy to serve? Why did you retreat instead to the forest?
“You’ve killed so many innocent people,” I say to the emperor, despairing. I can feel my resolve fading away.
“And you?” he replies. “How many innocent people have died at your hand? We have both made our choices, trodden our own paths, and in the end for what? A common cause, it would seem, of peace. We are cast from different moulds, Sara, yet we have been fashioned alike.”
Fashioned alike. Are we? Is there no difference between the emperor and I? He’s ordered armies to kill and destroy. And yes, I’ve killed with my own hands. An image of the youthful, lifeless Peace Bringer on the rooftop outside the walls floats before my eyes. I killed him, with the aim of assassinating the emperor and ending the war. The emperor seeks peace too, or at least he claims to seek it. Are we fashioned alike?
“Do you want your actions to be meaningful, your life to have a purpose?” Tigranik asks.
“Don’t listen to him, Fairgrey,” Theolin snarls.
The memory of Storm’s broken assassins flashes in front of me. Is that why she chose not to serve the emperor? She couldn’t bring herself to kill Tigranik, but in the moment he offered her the chance to serve him, did she suddenly see a better purpose for her life? She strives now to help those broken, former assassins find a purpose of their own.
Is that what I will become if I kill this man in front of me? A broken, former assassin, needing a new purpose to replace the guilt and stain I’ve heaped upon myself? Oh Storm, why didn’t you tell me any of this!
“Serve me,” Tigra
nik says. “Keep me safe so I can bring an end to the war.”
“End the war, or win it?” I ask weakly.
“Is there a difference?”
I shake my head, clinging to my crumbling defiance. “You’re a liar,” I shout.
“And you’re not?” he replies, with the ghost of a smile. “We’re all liars, Sara, whether we realise it or not.”
“No,” I say. “I value the truth.”
“Really? That is surprising, given the lies you tell yourself,” Tigranik says.
“I do no such thing,” I reply indignantly.
“Of course you do,” he says. “Have you never told yourself you’re not good enough? Or perhaps you believe that others are better than you. I’m not talking just in their skills or abilities, but in who they are. Do you believe that others have more worth than you? Or perhaps I am misjudging you, and you believe you have more worth than others?” He pauses, watching me intently, before continuing. “No, you’re not like that. You’re of the first kind, never feeling like you belong, or that you’re good enough for others. You worry that you’ll be discovered and seen for the fraud you tell yourself that you are.” He sighs, and a spark of kindness flickers behind his eyes. “They’re lies, Sara. Tell yourself those lies often enough, and they become the truth. They suck the life out of you. Don’t listen to them!”
Strangely, I find myself nodding and force my head to be still. Can the emperor read my thoughts? No, of course he can’t. But what he said… it is like he knows me. And the way he is looking at me, with that strange mix of sadness and kindness, it is like I am looking at…
My father.
My knees buckle and I nearly collapse with shock. No! I rail at the comparison. Father was an upright, honourable, loving man. Tigranik is… is… what is he? He’s not the murderous tyrant I always imagined him to be. At least, not only that. He is not simply evil. In fact, I begin to wonder, is he really evil at all?
Tigranik is complicated, nuanced. Grudgingly I admit that I can see reflections of myself in him. He is… real. A real person, with emotions and motivations all too similar to my own. He is powerful, yes, but flawed – and remarkably, he is aware of those flaws.
